Broken Minds
by Jemisard

Fandom: X-Men movie verse
Pairing: Charles/Erik spoken of, hints at Logan/Scott.
Rating: M
Series/Sequel: "Lost Past" part eight.
Disclaimers: They aren't mine. You know that. I'm just borrowing them.
Thanks:ERIKA, my dearest friend, this series is dedicated to you and your faithful feedback. You've been wonderful. Also, thank you Hayate, for your lovely pictures, and Nadja, for your lovely feedback and writing.
Summary:During the break in the trial, Logan and Charles are forced to watch the breakdown of Scott's mind.
Warnings:Violence, abuse, adult themes.

Charles watched through the cameras, as the thugs untied Scott and backed away. He snarled at them, reaching blindly for them, freezing silent. He cocked his head and tried to pull off the visor they had fastened over his eyes, wailing when he couldn't remove it.

Charles reached out, and Erik took his hand, holding it tightly. "He'll be okay."

"Will he? He can't see, he doesn't know where he is, he's completely alone. What do you think that's going to do to him?"

On screen, Scott reached out blindly, mouthing words, face twisted with fear. Logan shuddered. "He's terrified. He shouldn't be alone."

Charles turned to Logan, but he was already storming out, and down to the room.

Charles watched him try to fight his way in, as security hauled him backwards. Scott had leapt towards the noise, screaming, hands thumping on the door as he tried to reach the familiar voice.

He turned around helplessly, screaming with despair, before he fell to his knees in the middle of the floor. "Charles. Why? Why? No dark, so dark, bad. Charles!"

Charles felt tears rolling down his cheeks as Scott screamed for him over and over again.

Erik tightened his grip for a moment, before letting go. "It'll be alright."

"Will it?" Was all Charles could say in reply.

It had been two days. Charles barely left the screen that showed the rooms where Scott was staying. He had calmed down eventually, mapping out his surroundings with those keen senses, and he even seemed to have accepted that he couldn't remove the visor that blinded him. Food was sent in three times a day.

Scott still cried and called for Charles to help him, until his voice was hoarse.

When it became apparent to him that Charles wasn't coming, he took to calling for Wolverine, begging, pleading, even cursing with that one word.

The doctor examined him, declaring that he had been mistreated, and there was evidence of shock therapy, among other things.

When Wolverine didn't come, he started screaming for Kurt, and they were forced to tell him that Kurt was dead, that he died trying to escape the facility.

One week passed, and then they declared that someone could visit him.

Logan made it perfectly clear that he was the one who was going to visit.

He stepped into the room, and was overcome by the wildness of the room. Furniture was disarrayed, pushed against the sides. Fear and panic saturated the room, assaulting Logan's sensitive nose.

Scott sat in the corner, rocking, talking to himself in broken words. He froze when Logan came in, and gently sniffed. "No doctor. No Charles. Kurt gone, Kurt dead. Wolv?"

"Yeah, bub. It's Wolverine."

Scott threw himself at Logan, arms wrapping tightly around the other man's sturdy frame. He was sobbing, begging Logan to take away the darkness, to help him.

Logan maneuvered them over to the couch and sat Scott down. "Do ya trust me, slim?"

Pause. Slow nod.

"I'm gonna cut off this thing, but I won't hurt ya. Promise."

Scott nodded again, and took a deep breath, before relaxing, virtually motionless. Logan slid out a claw and and gently cut off the visor, sliding it off the too thin face. Scott looked up and opened his eyes, before tightly squeezing them shut again. "Bright. Hurt."

Logan stood up and drew the curtains, turning off the lights. "That better, slim?"

Scott cracked open one eye and nodded. "Better. Thanks."

"How'd ya feel?"

"Not scared now. Wolv protect."

"Yer getting better at talkin' again. Mind clearin' a bit?"

"Yes." Scott wrapped his long limbs around Logan, holding him close. "So alone. No one, no one help, Charles gone, Kurt gone."

"Chuck wanted to visit, but he ain't allowed to. He wanted to. He said ter tell ya he loves ya. He's been worried sick about ya."

"Miss. Miss outside. Miss colour. Miss family."

"I know bub. We missed ya too." Logan planted a soft kiss on the young man's temple. "How yer memories?"

"Mixed. Some now, some then, some mansion. All mixed. Something, words there, not here. Not to say, but must say."

Logan nodded. "I know what ya mean. Ya want to say things, but the connections between yer mouth and brain ain't letting ya."

Scott nodded. "Want, home? Please?"

Logan closed his eyes. It was frightening, to see brave and educated Scott Summers acting like a frightened child. The damage of their brainwashing or whatever they did, no doubt. "Not yet, slim. Ya gotta stay here. But we can visit now."

"Charles?" His voice was so hopeful. Logan thought back to the love he had seen expressed when he had seen the two them, back in Scott's office. He wished someone loved him like Scott and Charles loved each other. "I'm sorry, slim, the courts say he can't come in here. But he's watching ya. He were cryin' when ya were callin' fer him."

Scott nodded. "Remember."

"What, bub?"

"Wolv help. And Kurt. When let you in. Us. They come. Shocks, pain. Wolv stop, Wolv yell and howl, Wolv protect. Wolv promise." He looked up at Logan, the red glow had faded to nearly nonexistent, and Logan could see the midnight blue eyes that were hidden by the glow. "Wolv not let doctors take back to lab? Wolv help? Not want back. Pain, lonely, pain."

Logan pulled Scott close, so he didn't have to see the fear and pain in those eyes anymore. "I won't let them take ya, Scott. I won't let them."

Logan sat with Scott for two hours, telling him about what had been happening. He said about Jean and Ororo's fears, how Rogue had cried when they took him, and the kids missing him, even though they didn't miss the homework load.

Scott listened, silent, still clinging onto Logan like his life depended on it. Logan ran his hand over the lean back that had wasted with the poor treatment of the last two weeks, and just talked.

After two hours, Logan had run out of things to say. He just held the frightened young man and let him rest against his chest, feeling the second heartbeat against his own.

"Memory."

"What memory, Scott?" Logan was reminded of a child he knew. He needed prompting to say more, to understand that what he had given them wasn't enough.

"Girl. Memory. Save memory."

"Save the memory of a girl?"

"No, no, save memory. Memory, lab, bad, dark, save memory!" Scott stood up and threw himself out of Logan's grasp, slamming his palm against his head. "Memory! Save memory! Mo!"

Logan grabbed his hand before he could hit himself again. "Mo? Is Memory a girl?"

Scott nodded, staring at the wall next to him. Logan grabbed his chin and pulled his head around to face the front. He stared into the blue eyes. "Scott, is Memory a prisoner at the lab where you were?"

Thoughtful pause and slow nod. Logan exhaled slowly. "She was a prisoner."

"Kurt cell. Kurt, but not Kurt. No memories, stolen memories. Mo. Mnemosyne. Memory."

Logan took Scott's hands in his own. "Slim, look at me."

Scott turned his head around again to stare at Logan. Logan smiled. "Okay. When ya go into the court, ya tell them about Mo. Ya tell the judge about Mo, and her bein' in there."

"Bad, hurt. No, quiet, quiet, no tell, tell bad, dark bad." Scott pulled away again and began pacing, flexing and clenching his hands, and then slammed his hand through the window. "Not say! Can't, can't, not there!"

Logan grabbed him, hauling him away from the broken glass, even as he continued to sob into his hands. Logan picked him up and carried him to the couch, laying him down. A quick check showed that he had glass in his hands and feet from where Logan hadn't managed to stop him walking over the glass.

"Geez, slim, that were stupid. What'd ya do that for?"

"No, talk bad, talk and shock. Shock hurt, hurt, and then dark, dark back."

Logan pressed him back into the couch cushions, gently taking the slender hands in his own. "Slim, what are ya scared of?"

"Dark. Shock. Lab. Bad."

Logan counted the shards. Three in this hand. "What are the shocks, slim?"

"Shocks. Stick, hurt, pain. Think, bad."

"I don't understand that Scott. You gotta give me adjectives and nouns, bub."

Scott laughed. "Wolv smarter than look."

Logan stopped and turned to look at Scott, face incredulous. "What?"

Scott's face contorted into fear. "No, not mean, not mean."

"Bub, I ain't gonna hurt ya. But ya made a joke. Ya remembered and made a joke."

"Not, mad?"

"No, course not. This could hurt a little, I'm gonna pull out the glass. I'm not mad, though. I ain't never gonna hurt ya unless I need ter pull glass outta ya again."

Scott smiled thinly. "Promise?"

"Yeah. I promise, no one gonna hurt ya, especially not me or Chuck, so long as I can help it. And they ain't takin' ya back to the lab." Logan grasped a shard of glass. "This is gonna hurt. Ready?"

Scott nodded, eyes squeezed shut. Logan pulled quickly, and the glass slid free. He ran a soothing hand over Scott's arm. "Two more."

He pulled them out as fast as he could, without hurting Scott in the process more than was necessary. Scott remained silent as he repeated the action on the other hand and both feet, before using his shirt, cut into shreds, to bind it up.

An alarm went off, and Scott dived through the bathroom door, slamming it shut. A voice rang out over the intercom system in the room. "Logan, three hours has passed. It is time to leave."

The door to the bathroom flashed red as the lock was sealed, and Logan saw the main door light turn green. He snarled. "He needs medical help."

"We are aware of this, and he shall be treated as soon as you leave."

Logan leant his palms on the bathroom door. "Scott? They're makin' me leave, or I can't come back, back I will come back as soon as I can. Ya be strong, we'll get ya free."

"Promise?" Was whispered through, meant for his ears alone.

"Promise, bub."

Logan walked out and slammed the door behind him, before stalking up to the viewing room.

Charles looked at Logan as he walked in. Logan threw himself into a chair and lit up a cigar. "What's wrong with him, Chuck?"

"I can't say for sure, but basic behaviour bears similarities to autism."

"Huh?"

"Something is making him imitate to basic symptoms of a metal disease called autism. He did not have it previously, and it something you are born with. You have it, or you don't. No in between like these wild swings."

"Did ya catch what he said about that Memory girl?"

"Yes. Erik is already looking into it." Charles rested his head in his hands. "I love him, you know that don't you? I love Scott."

"I know." Logan looked down. "But, it ain't, like, romantic, like I thought. I saw ya, in his office, when he were kneelin' next ter ya, huggin' ya legs. I thought wrong. Ya love him like I like Rogue."

Charles smiled and nodded. "Then you know that I will die before I let him suffer. He is my son, he always has been, since the moment that he asked me not to leave him, to the moment I die."

Logan chewed his cigar thoughtfully. "If they rule against ya, what'll ya do to get him back? Will ya do what I'll do, or do I do it alone?"

Charles looked him in the eye, those pale, icy blue eyes so different to the midnight blue of Scott's eyes, yet so similar. "Anything Logan. I will do anything to get him back."

Logan nodded. "Glad we're on the same page then."

And he turned back to the screen and continued to watch.

The next week went by faster than the last. Each day, one person was allowed in for three hours. Reluctantly, Logan stepped back to let the others visit, knowing how worried they were about Scott.

The doctors had sedated him to attend his injuries, but had also fastened the visor back on. When he woke up, he resumed his screaming, though now he kept begging for Wolv to come and take off the visor.

Charles sat in the observation room, tears running silent paths down his cheeks until there were no more tears to be cried.

It reached day thirteen, and Logan's turn for visiting had come around again. He had been in since the first visit, Ororo surrendering her turn so that Logan could go and calm down the panicked young man, if only for a while.

Soon, it had become obvious that something was still wrong though. He would have fits of violence, destroying anything within arm's reach, until they pumped sedatives into the room and waited for him to collapse.

Today though, he had been calm and almost friendly to the carers who brought in the food, and had been as threatening as a kitten, sitting on the couch and humming tunes to himself.

The light on the door turned green and Logan walked in, waiting for the door behind to lock so that the other side would unlock. It slid open and he stepped in. "Hey, slim, how're ya feelin' today?"

Scott turned to face him with one of his rare, and beautiful, smiles. "Wolv!"

Logan grabbed him as he ran over and threw himself into Logan's waiting arms. He held him tightly, breathing in the scent of him, panic subsiding beneath relief and comfort. "How are ya?"

"Feel good. Head, bad dark. Light?"

Logan chuckled. "Okay, we'll get that thing off yer head. Hold still now, I don't want ter hurt ya."

Scott stayed still as Logan carefully cut the straps and pulled it off. "Keep yer eyes shut until the curtain's are closed."

Scott nodded and Logan quickly pulled the curtain, cutting most of the light from the room. "Okay. Open yer eyes."

Scott opened his eyes slowly and smiled again. He did that a lot more often now. "Light. Wolv always bring light. Bad man, dark. Shock man."

"Whacha mean, Scott?"

"Bad man, bring dark, bring shocks. Bad man. Doctor man."

Logan frowned. "Ya mean Jackson? Doctor Jackson?"

Scott though and nodded slowly, and started rocking. "Jackson, bad. Dark, say dark good, shock help, not help, bad."

Logan felt his anger rising. "Have he been in here since you came here?"

Scott nodded slowly. "One and one and one times."

"How many?"

"Umm," Scot paused and thought about it. "Three. Three times, bad man Jackson been in."

Logan looked up at the camera. "Ya hear that, Lensherr? Three times Jackson has broken into here."

Erik is going to investigate this, Logan.

Logan turned back to Scott. "How's yer head? Any clearer?"

"Some clear. Word, clear. Not clear, but not bad clear."

"Getting there. When we get ya back to the mansion, we can help ya better. Clear yer mind proper like."

"Bad, Wolv. Grammar."

Logan laughed. "That's our slim. Mind scrambled as my breakfast eggs and pickin' on my English." He wrapped his arms around Scott again, rocking them side to side as he held him. "Tomorrow ya can go out again. We go back to court then."

Scott nodded and suddenly held a hand to his head. "Hurt, Wolv."

"What does? Yer head?"

Scott froze and suddenly snarled, throwing himself at Logan, sinking his teeth into the exposed flesh of his neck.

Logan howled and rolled them over, pinning Scott under his body, holding down his arms. He sniffed the young man's neck.

He smelt of drugs.

Logan watched him thrash under his weight. Someone was drugging him. He hadn't smelt like that before so he must have received them since Logan came in.

Logan sniffed at his neck again, and then dragged the slim wrists together, so he could hold them with one hand. Scott bucked upwards, trying to throw him off. Logan snarled and pushed back. "Hold still, ya bloody nut. I'm tryin' ter help ya."

Scott snarled back, and bit Logan's arm. Logan howled, but ignored the pain as best he could, and ran a hand along Scott's neck, where the chemical scent was coming from.

There.

He honed in on the tiny lump that his fingers had felt. He pushed it lightly and Scott screamed again, throwing himself against Logan in a frenzy.

Logan lay down against Scott, waiting for his thrashing to stop. Slowly, the movements became weaker and Logan felt Scott's chest gasping for air as he sobbed against Logan.

Pulling him over to the couch, Logan wrapped his arms around Scott again, holding him as he cried.

Finally, he stopped crying and sat back, wiping at the tears on his cheeks. Logan smiled softly and brushed one cheek with his palm. "Ya okay, bub?"

Slow nod. Logan wiped the other cheek. "Ya bein' controlled."

"Bad. No, stop. Bad man, Jackson man, no stop, shocks, bad, dark bad."

"Scott, yer ramblin'. Slow down and think about what ya tryin' ter say."

Scott took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Bad man, Jackson, come. Shot, hurt. Laugh. Bad man, say dark good. Say bad, need shocks, need dark. Say bad, not bad."

"No, yer not bad, bub, yer just been mistreated, like me." Logan pulled Scott back into his arms, though this time it was more for his comfort than Scott's. Scott went willingly, curling into Logan tightly, pressing his face against Logan's neck, inhaling deeply. "Smell safe."

"I smell safe? How's that work?"

"Smell, Wolv smell, safe smell."

Logan grinned and ruffled Scott's hair. "Ya think too much." He paused and looked down on the soft face. "Ya wanna hear about the kids? They've been missin' ya."

Scott nodded and stretched out on the couch, settling his head on Logan's lap, eyes drifting shut. Logan continued to stroke his hair as he softly told Scott about the last couple of days.

Erik Lensherr continued to research for the next day in court. He had some questions for Mr Jackson, and he expected some interesting answers.

The End